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When Breathing is No longer Free by Rachael Clyne

In the city, anyone seen breathing is stopped,
searched for signs of exhalation, breath
is banished, mouths clamped, held face down
until the air no longer needs us.
We save them the trouble of a bullet.

How we long for desert spaces where we
sweep dunes, with furnace mouths,
ruche sand, revive its memories of water,
gather bones, roll them clattering
on our tongues and expel them with a sigh.